


Anywhere Feels Like Home

by gilligankane



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-22
Updated: 2010-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:18:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It comes the summer she turns nine, and the first person she calls is Brittany.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anywhere Feels Like Home

It comes the summer she turns nine and when she opens the door to the backyard and it’s just sitting there, the first person she calls is Brittany.

Together, they stare at it in wonder. When Santana reaches out to touch it, Brittany smacks her hand away.

“It might not be real,” Brittany whispers, even as she edges a little closer.

Santana rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “Of course it’s real.”  _It has to be_ , she doesn’t say out loud.

“My brother watched a movie once, and this guy  _thought_  he saw something, but it was just a mer… mir… mir…” The blond frowns. “It rhymed with garage. But it meant it wasn’t real.”

“It’s real,” Santana says, taking a firm step forward and slapping her hand down on it. When it makes a steady  _thump_  Brittany’s eyes light up and she lets out a cry of excitement, rushing forward and spreading her arms wide, hugging as much of it as she can.

Santana’s dad laughs from the back porch. “You like it, mija?”

She looks back and grins at him. “It’s just what I asked for.”

Brittany is already pulling the door open and moving inside the playhouse, pulling down the fold-up table and throwing open the windows. “Look!” she shouts. “We can color on this table it’s so big.”

Santana rushes inside and they spend all day pulling and prodding and planning out the summer they’re going to spend in the playhouse and the day is only cut short by the sun setting.

Brittany comes back the next day, her backpack overstuffed and at first, Santana is confused, because it’s not school, but when Brittany starts pulling out crayons and paper, she stops thinking about what else in the bag.

It’s not until after lunch that Brittany reaches back into her backpack and pulls out a big marker, the kind only Santana’s dad gets to use.

“What’re you doing?” she asks from the corner of the house where she set up her beanbag.

Brittany shushes her and places the marker to the wooden wall. Santana knows she should be angry, because this is her playhouse and she’s not even drawing on the walls, but she just watches Brittany color until the blond pulls back and smiles proudly.

On the wall over the door – where only Brittany can reach – there is a red balloon-shaped circle and a “B and S” written just underneath it. “There,” Brittany says, sitting on the corner of Santana’s beanbag, weighing down one side so that Santana slides towards her. “Now it’s  _ours_.”

Then Brittany’s eyes light up again and she reaches into her backpack again, pulling out pictures and her stuffed animal and the one blanket Santana likes to use.

“Now,” Brittany amends, “it’s ours.”

Over the summer, more of Brittany’s things show up – her ballet shoes, her Amelia Bedelia books – but Santana hardly even notices them.

She already feels like she’s been living with Brittany most her life.


End file.
